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Still Seeking Justice After All These Years

by Mona Rocha

Feminism is supposed to be intersectional, meaning that the oppressions of race, sex, gender, class, ability, age, health, etc. are all interlocked (for more, see Kimberle Crenshaw's famous piece on intersectionality here).

So that is why for feminist Friday, which falls on Juneteenth, I’m going to talk about the history surrounding the recent shooting in Charleston. Particularly, I want to talk about the legacy of Denmark Vesey and his life of injustice and suffering…and how that same disregard for black lives then is present with us now. Oh, and all quotations used here come from the August 13, 1822 account of Vesey’s rebellion, titled “Negro Plot: An Account of the Late Intended Insurrection Among A Portion of the Black of the City of Charleston, South Carolina,” available in its entirety here.

Denmark Vesey was born a slave in St. Thomas in 1767; Denmark controlled the territory of St. Thomas at that time. During his enslavement, Denmark Vesey was called Telemaque. When he became free later in his life and was allowed to choose his own name, he picked Denmark for his first name (perhaps for the name of the sovereign power in the place of his birth). The surname Vesey came from his owner Joseph Vesey, a sea captain “who was engaged in supplying the French of that island [San Domingo] with slaves”, and who on one trip in 1781, accepted a transport of 390 slaves onto his ship. One of these slaves stood out to him through his “beauty, alertness, and intelligence” – this slave was Denmark Vesey. As such, the captain took a liking to him, but nevertheless sold him and then subsequently rebought him. Enslaved, Telemaque/Denmark Vesey worked for the captain in a variety of tasks, organizing ship voyages and overseeing administrative tasks, later, he would also be hired out as a skilled slave. When captain Vesey retired from sea voyages and slaving, he settled in Charleston, bringing Telemaque with him.

At about age 32, Denmark Vesey was able to buy his freedom for $600, after having won the prize of the East Bay street lottery in the amount of $1500. Unfortunately, he was not able to buy the freedom of his wife or his children (all of whom, by Southern Carolina law, followed/gained the status of their mother upon birth) – meaning that Denmark Vesey knew that all of the kids he and his wife would give birth to would become slaves upon entering the world and breathing their first breath. I’m not a mother, but I can’t even begin to imagine the dread his wife felt – and he felt – as they contemplated the future lives of their offspring.

Denmark Vesey worked as a carpenter in the city, and was well regarded as a hard, conscientious laborer. In 1816, he also became one of the founders of the African Methodist Episcopal church in Charleston – along with Pastor Morris Brown – after about 4000 black members of the white Methodist church decided to form their own organization to escape racism. At the AME, Denmark Vesey taught religious classes, emphasizing the idea of God freeing his chosen people – in other words, he interpreted Biblical passages as promising liberation to black slaves. He also planned a revolt against the slave masters in 1822.

Denmark Vesey’s work in the AME church was characterized, by the court that sentenced him to death for his planned rebellion, as fanatical. The court document went on to explicate that, “religious fanaticism has not been without its effect on this project [the revolt], and as auxiliary to these sentiments, the secession of a large body of blacks from the white methodist [sic] church, with feelings of irritation and disappointment, formed a hot bed, in which the germ [of rebellion] might well be expected to spring into life and vigour. Among the conspirators, a majority of them belonged to the African church.” Whites feared the church’s potential for rebellion, and distrusted the church community since it offered a place to gather and possibly plan for it (to the point that they eventually burned it down).

The revolt itself was supposed to commence during the night of Sunday, June 16th, at midnight. The conspirators met one last time at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Riders were meant to go outside the city limits and spread the word of the revolt, and perhaps get aid from slaves working at nearby “country” plantations. The plot was discovered however, and by 9 o’clock that evening the governor was informed of the plot “to sweep the town with fire and sword.” By 10 o’clock, light infantry patrols encircled the city to stop the plotters from seeking outside help; by the night of the June 17th, “a committee of vigilance and safety was appointed from the members of the council” to investigate and punish “the suspected and guilty.”

Horrifically, 193 years later, to the exact night, a white vigilante entered the same church and shot into the crowd. Was he aware of this history? Did he see himself as a member of this previous committee sitting in some sort of twisted judgment of black lives who just wanted to be free? We won’t know and perhaps this is all a horrible coincidence. We do know however, that this is a hate crime. We do know that the perpetrator said “You rape our women and you’re taking over our country – you have to go” before he shot into the crowd (see here for the story), appealing to problematic, racist myths and tropes. We do know that South Carolina is home to at least 19 hate groups (see here for the story).

We also know that such viciousness and intimidation is part and parcel of the history of the civil rights movement. For one such example, see this report put together by the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee circa 1963: it outlines daily incidents of violence and intimidation in Mississippi.

For another example, think of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama. It was targeted in 1963; as a result, Addie Mae Collins (14), Denise McNair (11), Carole Robertson (14), and Cynthia Wesley (14), all dressed in their Sunday best, were blown to pieces.

Importantly, most of us know that all of this is wrong and horrible and racist (at least I hope most of us know this). And that we need to recognize that black lives matter, that racism is far from over, and that white privilege is real and unjust. That we need to move past all this injustice and achieve meaningful social change where people won’t be judged by the color of their skin. Or killed for the color of their skin. But how much longer will it be until this message is recognized by us all? How much longer till this kind of story is no longer the continuation of a pattern of violence and discrimination that’s going back for centuries? When will that day come?

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Still Seeking Justice After All These Years

by Mona Rocha

Feminism is supposed to be intersectional, meaning that the oppressions of race, sex, gender, class, ability, age, health, etc. are all interlocked (for more, see Kimberle Crenshaw's famous piece on intersectionality here).

So that is why for feminist Friday, which falls on Juneteenth, I’m going to talk about the history surrounding the recent shooting in Charleston. Particularly, I want to talk about the legacy of Denmark Vesey and his life of injustice and suffering…and how that same disregard for black lives then is present with us now. Oh, and all quotations used here come from the August 13, 1822 account of Vesey’s rebellion, titled “Negro Plot: An Account of the Late Intended Insurrection Among A Portion of the Black of the City of Charleston, South Carolina,” available in its entirety here.